Dear Diary
by Lily Dragonquill
Summary: Chapter Eight and an important note - Primula had kept a diary during the time of her pregnancy and the first months with her newborn child. – Not only journal entries but also short experiences mostly written from her POV.
1. 20 Afteryule 1368

**Author notes:**

I have often written about the relationship between Frodo and his mother – and I always delight in writing these little mother-child-moments. This is my first try in capturing what Primula might have felt or thought before the birth of her child.

This story is quite a challenge for me as I have never been pregnant, so I hope it works out all right.

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**Dear Diary**

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_20. Afteryule 1368_

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Dear Diary,

I think I'm pregnant. I am not entirely sure and yet, at times, I am beginning to feel it. I know there is new life growing within me. I have been sick in the mornings recently and I know this can be another sign of a beginning pregnancy. Yet, I have noticed such signs often in my life and never did the seed of hope within my heart bear fruit. Shall I trust my feelings this time?

Having been disappointed three times, I am afraid of trusting sensations of secret wishes coming true and am frightened of being disappointed again. I don't think I could bear it. Yet, I cannot ignore the feeling in my heart. Hope has been kindled already, whether I wish it or not. I am expecting a child.

I have not told Drogo anything. I will wait a little longer until I am entirely sure. Should my hopes be shattered anew it will be better if he does not know.

I am so frightened, I don't even know if I should be happy or sad. I want to have a babe, more than anything else, but after three miscarriages in the last four years I don't know if I can dare to hope - if I am allowed to hope. Perhaps it should not be. Perhaps I would not be a good mother and this is the earth's way to hinder me from hurting a child who deserves better.

No, I would not hurt a babe - I would do everything for a child, if only I am allowed to have one. It has always been my greatest wish to become a mother and I would be a good one!

I will dare to dream believing that my hope will not fail me.

Don't worry, little one, I will look after you.


	2. 17 Solmath 1368

_17. Solmath 1368_

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Dear Diary,

I still haven't told anybody but I think Drogo is suspicious anyhow. He keeps talking about how strange I behave of late and how moody I am. Am I moody? I don't think so. I'm not a moody person, everybody knows that and Drogo should know best. I am not moody, or am I?

Well, actually there was this little argument yesterday. There were only three more logs of firewood left and I told Drogo to get more as it was cold and the fire was already burning down. Yet, he remained seated in his armchair, reading his book and nodding absent-mindedly. Had he only done so once it wouldn't have been a problem, but when he still did do nothing after I asked him for the third time to get some wood, I got slightly aggravated. Planting myself before him I snatched the book from his hands and stared down on him.

He glanced back at me stupidly as if he couldn't understand why I had taken the book from him. Had he not listened to me before? He really should pay me more heed. I did not wait for him to say anything but tramped out of the room, hurried to our bedchamber and slammed the door shut.

Well, perhaps I overreacted when I locked the door not allowing Drogo to enter when I suddenly heard his voice from the other side of the wall.

But, I am not moody - at least not today.

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Drogo has just entered the room asking if I was pregnant because I had been 'acting like a mother-to-be'. Well, now he knows. He was very excited, hugging me and kissing me, his eyes being all teary. I guess he doesn't even think about the possibility of losing the child and it would be best if I would not either.

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**Desidera:** Thank you so much! I'm always happy when readers recognise my love for the characters.

**Leia Wood:** I fear the chapters will more or less stay as short as they are now, but I hope I can capture Primula's feelings in the chapters to come as well.

**SmaugsMommy:** I think the chapters are almost too short and yet I like it that way :)

**Sheildmaiden-of-Rohan-forever: **Thank you for your comment.


	3. 18 Rethe 1368

**Author notes:**  
As I have never read about Saradoc's birthday I invented a date.

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_18. Rethe 1368_

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"Primula! Darling, are you here?"

Menegilda Brandybuck closed the entrance door behind her. Nothing was to be seen in the small hobbithole just outside Buckleburry except for the dim light of the hearth in the parlour. Hanging her cloak on the peg Menegilda walked searchingly along the hall. "Primie?" she called again but no-one answered. It was almost mid-day and Menegilda began to wonder. Usually Primula was always home at this time of the day - and she always had a pot of tea on the fire. "Never want to be unprepared," she used to say.

Menegilda had always been close to her sister-in-law and, being a midwife, she had grown even more attached to her while supporting her during the difficult time of her miscarriages. The poor thing wanted to have a babe so much, but her body seemed unwilling to allow a new life to grow.

"Gilda," Primula suddenly called, appearing in the kitchen door. "What are you doing here?" She dried her hands at her pinafore and hurried to give her sister-in-law a warm hug. "I thought you would be at the Hall all Rethe, preparing everything for Sara's birthday. How is the lad?"

"Oh, he's well with his head full of mischief, as always," Gilda answered laughing, looking her over from top to toe. "You look good."

Primula blushed and, waving aside, she led her friend into the kitchen. "What brings you here?" she wanted to know, taking her teapot from the fire and handing her sister-in-law a cup of peppermint tea. She did not offer her a seat but took an apple from a basket on the table and headed straight to the back-door. Once outside, Primula sat down on a bench, threw one of Drogo's shirts into the laundry-basin and started to scrub.

"Well," Gilda began clearing her throat as she sat down her eyes closely observing Primula, "the reason why I'm here is because rumours have reached my ears."

Primula froze. Without looking at her friend she asked doubtfully "What kind of rumour?" When Gilda did not answer at once, Primula lifted her head slowly to look into her friend's eyes. "Who spoke to you about me?" Not only was her voice doubtful, but there was also a whiff of fear within it and her eyes searched desperately for the truth in her friend's gaze.

Gilda grinned from one ear to the other, but did not answer. Instead she took a sip of her tea and leaned back, stretching her legs. "Gilda," Primula urged her voice almost angry with a hidden plea within.

Sitting up Menegilda laid an arm around Primula's shoulders and kissed her cheek. "No need to worry, dear," she soothed looking at her lovingly. "In fact, it was only your very concerned husband speaking to me and asking me to look after you." She felt Primula clench under her touch and took her by the shoulder. "You should not conceal something like this," she said in a low voice, her eyes full of love and understanding.

Primula felt a lump in her throat and tried to swallow it - without success. Her eyes suddenly filled with tears. She couldn't stand Menegilda's gaze any longer and had to look down. The apple she wanted to eat lay beside her, all but forgotten. Her hands grabbed her pinafore and clenched. Her body trembled and a single tear slid from the corner of her eye. "I could not tell," she whispered in a tearstained voice, almost inaudible. "I could not tell anybody - you least of all."

Gilda's brow creased as she pulled her friend close and rubbed her back, as she had done with her sons when they were younger. "Why not, dear? You know you can always talk to me, don't you?" She felt Primula nod, though she did not answer. "What hindered you?"

Primula swallowed hard as she pulled away from the embrace that did not comfort her half as much as it should and cast her gaze down, her fists still clenching and unclenching as she messed about with her pinafore. "I feared what you might have told me," she answered in a miserable whisper. "I could not bear if you had told me I might lose another child. I don't have the strength to hear you saying that - not again."

Biting her lip Gilda pulled Primula close again and tried to soothe her. She should have known. She didn't like to deliver that kind of news either and for Primula, having had three miscarriages already, those words would be like poison to a newly opened wound. Hot tears dripped on the collar of her blouse as she gently rocked her friend. She knew what harm the fear of miscarriage would bring - she had seen it too often. It was, in fact, the reason for her visit. Primula had to get rid of these fears at once. They would not only harm her, but the child growing within her as well. .As soon as Drogo had told her about his wife's pregnancy, all Menegilda could think about was the well-being of mother and child.

Primula was still weeping, her hands now clutching Gilda's dress, but her sobs became less and soon she had regained control of herself. Letting go, she wiped her eyes with her pinafore whispering "I'm sorry, but I was just so…"

"Hush," Gilda soothed, placing a finger on Primula's lips. "Why worry already, dear? I have not looked at you yet and you shouldn't fear an answer that you might as well never get. Come, let us go inside."

Slowly Primula nodded and allowed Menegilda to lead her back inside the smial and into the bedroom. While Primula undressed, Menegilda went back into the kitchen to wash her hands.

Primula sat down on the bed glancing thoughtfully at her belly. It looked the same as ever. She sighed heavily. If only her wish would come true. Startled she looked up when Menegilda re-entered the room, wearing a broad grin. Primula creased her brow but made herself comfortable on the bed, her hands impulsively folded across her belly.

Gilda grinned at the instinctive action and gently took Primula's hands in her own. They were cold and trembled. "Don't worry, dear," she said calmingly. "I'm sure everything will be all right."

Primula forced herself to smile, though she felt her whole body clench. If only she could forget about her fears. Feeling new tears welling up inside her, she closed her eyes and waited. Soon she felt one of Menegilda's warm hands resting on her belly, but her friend did not do anything, but kept talking to her, telling her to relax and actually succeeding in distracting her from her worries. Yet Primula's eyes did never leave Gilda's face, closely watching every expression of hers. But her friend's face remained unreadable - a gift Gilda had gained in her early years as a midwife - and Primula could do nothing but trust her as Gilda's gentle hands stroke and pressed the soft flesh of her belly.

Her thoughts drifted to the child and how big it must be by now. If she would soon be able to feel it? She did not know for, though she had felt her body changing before, she was never allowed to actually feel her child moving within her.

"What about you? Are you feeling well or is there anything that troubles you? Primie?" Gilda asked, wakening her from her daydreams and looking at her expectantly. Primula blinked, raising an eyebrow.

A smile crossed Gilda's face, as she repeated her question. At least she had helped Primula to relax and the disturbances her friend mentioned - nausea, dizziness - were not unnatural. All in all Gilda was content. Primula put on her dress again, looking pleadingly at her friend and yet Gilda could see some lingering fear glisten in her eyes. "Don't worry, dear," she assured with a smile. "Everything is fine, as far as I can tell. There is no need to be concerned."

Primula's eyes grew wide. "Really?" she asked voicelessly, realising that her mouth was all dry. A nod of Gilda was all she needed to break in tears anew - tears of joy, of course. Perhaps she _did_ worry needlessly?

"Hush, dear," Gilda calmed, placing an arm around her shoulder and sitting her down on the edge of the bed. "It is not the time for tears. Your worries will also trouble the child you bear and you don't want the little one to be all stressed out even before he or she is born, do you."

Primula laughed amidst her tears, looking at Gilda through shining eyes. "Of course not," she answered and took a deep breath to calm herself. Her hands were trembling even more than before. "You really mean that I could make it this time?" She could hardly believe what Gilda had just told her.

To her disappointment Gilda shrugged. "I cannot say for sure but your chances are rather good."

More tears streamed down Primula's rosy cheeks, but these were ones of bliss, for all fear had left her. At that moment, she felt so happy she feared she might burst with joy. She was pregnant and her child was well.

With a heavy sigh she laid her head on Gilda's shoulder and closed her eyes, while Gilda stroked her hair as she would stroke a child's. Both of Primula's hands rested on her belly. Her child was well and she would do everything she could to see that it remained so.

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**Desidera:** I'm very good in shutting out the world as well. Poor Drogo must have been quite shocked when Primula dashed out of the room.


	4. 22 Astron 1368

_22. Astron 1368_

Dear Diary,

My secret is not that safe anymore. Gilda promised me not to tell anyone - not even my brother - and that promise she has kept well. Yet, it is I who cannot keep it secret any longer. You can begin to see it - or is it just my imagination running wild?

I spent half an hour in front of the mirror yesterday evening looking at my belly form all sides, not realising that Drogo was standing at the door for minutes observing my every movement. Only when he hugged me from behind did I notice him. He said that I looked beautiful and that he could not wait for my belly to grow rounder. He is seeing it too, so it won't be long now until others will notice as well.

Never before have I reached the point where someone else could see my body's blessing. Is the worst danger of losing the child over now? I know I should not think about it - Gilda has told me so and I know she is right - but I cannot get the thought out of my mind. Ever and anon it takes me unawares and the fear always makes me weep. We have come so far now. We cannot be parted anymore. Drogo shares my pain but I do not think he can understand all my feelings.

Mother always talked about the bond between a mother and her child and I never believed her. It was not that I did not trust her knowledge, but I could not understand. She kept telling me that I would know what she was talking about once I was a mother myself. My child is still unborn and yet I am beginning to understand. The bond already exists though it might not be as strong as it will be once I feel the baby or hold the little one in my arms. Oh mother, I wish you could be here now to share your knowledge with me and tell me what I am to do. Gilda is as best a friend and a midwife as I could ask for, but I wish I could have your counsel as well. Sometimes I miss you so much, mother.

Perhaps Drogo is right. I _am _moody at times; feeling like laughing one minute and crying the next. Besides, I am being too thoughtful of late. There are so many things in my mind and yet I feel all empty and cannot concentrate on anything. Those are the times when I need to be hugged even more than usual, and, fortunately, Drogo is always there. He is a darling. My poor baby must be getting very cuddly with parents like Drogo and me.

Now, that is something that would please me. A lot of warm hugs and baby-snuggling is very tempting, after all. Do you hear that, little one? You can be as snugly as you want to be. Your father and I will give you all the warmth and care you need.

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**merrymagic26:** Thank you so much! I really like giving Primula some kind of identity. As Frodo's mother she deserves not to be forgotten.


	5. 8 Thrimidge 1368

_8. Thrimidge 1368_

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Dear Diary,

I cannot believe my luck. There are tears swimming in my eyes threatening to spill over. Drogo will surely be thinking I have mused over my fears again until they made me cry, but that's not it.

I just received the greatest of all gifts a mother whose child has not yet been born can get. I could feel my baby. I have perceived my child before this and understood that my body has changed because I am pregnant, because there is new life growing within me - but this time it was _real_. I could actually feel a little hand or foot punching against my womb. Never have I felt anything more wonderful, never received more bliss than I have this very afternoon. My child is alive and very energetic too!

My little one; we have taken a very important step. Never before did I feel the life within me as clearly as you have shown me this afternoon. You know how happy I am, don't you? You do not mistake my tears for sadness, but know they are from joy.

Your movements have ceased, my dear. Are you sleeping again or just resting? Do you feel my hand when it rests on my belly just as I feel you?

I cannot wait to tell Drogo. He will be beside himself with joy. Even now he can spend hours with either his hand or his head resting on my belly and I wonder what will happen once I tell him that our child is a little scrapper. I guess he will not leave my side again until he has felt the little foot or hand as well. I cannot blame him, being so very excited myself. I could sit still and wait for my child to wriggle all afternoon. But I have housework to do.

Gilda is coming tomorrow to check on us and she is bringing my brother with her. I wonder how much Rory already knows, how much Gilda has passed on to him. Does he share my fears? Even if he does, he will not show it, being the kind, caring brother he always has been. Yet my news will touch his heart. He will know from it that there is now more hope for a new heir than there has ever been; a new little Brandybuck - or rather a Baggins mingled with a respectable amount of Brandybuck-blood. _My_ little Baggins. I can not wait to see his face when he learns of it.

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** Desidera: **I didn't know how to write chapter three from Primula's POV and still give it the feeling it needed. But, I think, the reader still learns enough of what is on her mind. Thank you so much!

**merrymagic26: **It's a pity Frodo couldn't be with his parents for longer.


	6. 24 Forelithe 1368

_24. Forelithe 1368_

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The light of the stars glimmers in the dark waters of the Brandywine. I love to sit here, though I have seldom done so of late. I have been too excited the past weeks, taking long walks to Bucklebury and Brandy Hall only to show off my belly. People are recognising it - indeed, they would be blind if they did not - and keep giving me advice and asking questions about when I am to give birth. Some even wanted to know if I would come back to Brandy Hall once the little one is born. I never will, though I love my former home very much. My place is here now, near Bucklebury, with Drogo and our child. I am sure my little one will be happy to have a bit of peace and quiet, without hundreds of gaping relatives, and so will I.

I am frightened of what lies still ahead of me. So many things need to be arranged. Goodness, I haven't even thought of a name yet. Drogo keeps telling me that we still have time enough to get everything finished before our baby arrives, but at times he is as restless as I am, though he tries to conceal it.

I suppose he was restless today, or he would not have sent me away. He and my brother Saradas are busy cleaning out the spare room that should become our child's room once the baby is old enough. I guess they did not want me to meddle or to be in their way or to disagree with their plans, so Drogo packed me something to eat - a package that would have fed two full-grown hobbits, but most of the biscuits, plums, grapes and sandwiches I have already eaten - and told me to go and relax somewhere.

And so that was why I came here, to the banks of the Brandywine, to listen to the quiet gurgling of the water and the wind rustling in the leaves of the trees. I arrived some time before dinner and now it is already dark. The first stars have appeared in the sky and I am still sitting on that huge rock jutting out from the shallow water and bathing my feet in the fresh stream as I have often done. The air is still warm, heated by the sunlight stored in the rocks and stones of the bank, and smells of lilac that has almost withered. Closing my eyes I draw in a deep breath and realise that there are other smells in the air as well: earth, wood and marigolds.

"Your father was right, my little one, I needed a little time to relax. Sometimes I think he knows better what I need than I do. He is very caring and, though he can be quite stubborn at times, I love him so much that I sometimes fear my heart would burst." I smile when I think about Drogo and his stubborn nature and for a moment I see a glimpse of a very young face looking at me just as determinedly as he does - a picture that leaves me giggling and shaking my head. "Don't you dare become as stubborn as your father, my dear little Baggins. You don't need to honour the name in that way."

"You heard that, didn't you? You always know when I speak of you and delight in letting me feel it." With a smile on my face I place my hand just underneath my bellybutton. I can feel my child moving within me - a sensation that still sends thrills of joy through my body. "I feel you struggle," I whisper and move my hand gently across my belly in hopes my little one will feel it. How much I wish I could hold my child and look upon my baby.

I lean back, supporting my body with my left arm. Far above my head a bright star glimmers - the evening star. Its light warms my heart and for a moment I close my eyes. The wind's gentle fingers brush through my hair and my mind drifts away. I think of Bilbo. He once told me about Elbereth. He said she was the one who made the stars that should be a light for the Elves when the world was still dark and even now that the darkness is long gone, she is watching over them. "Is Elbereth guarding you as well, my little one? Whether she is or not, I will teach you to honour the stars and look up to them just like my parents once taught me."

As if my words have brought back memories of a time long forgotten I begin to croon a lullaby my mother used to sing.

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_Twinkle, twinkle, little star,  
How I wonder what you are.  
Up above the world so high,  
Like a diamond in the sky.  
Twinkle, twinkle, little star,  
How I wonder what you are!_

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A smile crosses my lips as I feel my baby calm. Singing works wonders. I only hope it will remain thus after my dearest is born. Gilda says it should, and it comforts me to know that my singing voice might help to ease any worry or discomfort that might trouble my little child.

I am just about to intone the second verse when I hear a silent splashing behind me. Turning my head I observe Drogo standing in the water, smiling back at me. He puts his arms around me and kisses the back of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. "I love to hear you sing", he whispers into my ear, tickling the soft flesh of my neck.

I smile and lean back, laying my head on my husband's breast. "You should not distract me then." Feeling a movement within me, I take one of Drogo's hands to place it on my belly. Just at that moment, our baby decides to comment on my falling silent.

Drogo chuckles. "It seems I am not the only one who is in love with your singing."

"No, you're not." The smile on my face broadens as Drogo sits down behind me and I lean into his embrace. "Has to be a weakness of Bagginses."

He smiles and caresses my cheek with the hand that does not rest on my belly. There is nothing but the two of us, the sound of gurgling water and rustling leaves and the evening star above our heads. Nothing, except for the child in my womb who is eager to let me know that my husband and I are not alone and never again will be - a sacrifice I am more than willing to make.

I close my eyes and begin to hum, but quickly fall into crooning again

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_Twinkle, twinkle, little star,  
How I wonder what you are.  
Up above the world so high,  
Like a diamond in the sky.  
Twinkle, twinkle, little star,  
How I wonder what you are!_

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**Desidera: **Yes, that's frightening, isn't it? Even I begin to imagine how it would be having children in a far away future :)


	7. 20 Afterlithe 1368

_20. Afterlithe 1368 _

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"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Of course it is! Now, come in! You don't want our child to think that his or her father a coward."

Giving me a meaningful glance, Drogo finally dares some steps deeper into the river until the water almost reaches his chest. He draws in a deep breath and looks at me through pleading eyes. "Primula, I really think you shouldn't do this. I mean -"

I stop his pointless stammering and capture his sweet mouth in a deep kiss, placing my hand on his neck. It is a heartfelt kiss full, of love and desire, the type we have not shared in days. A warm wind tickles my wet skin letting little goose bumps appear on my arms as I finally release his lips. "Do you trust me?" I ask in a whisper and shiver as the wind blows a little stronger.

Golden sparks of the fading sunlight shimmering through the tree-tops dance on his beautiful face. "Yes." His voice is hoarse as he answers and just as I smile at him, he adds, "But -"

I do not allow him to finish his sentence and place my finger on his lips. "Don't you dare, Drogo Baggins," I scold, "Either you trust me, or you don't. There ain't no 'but' this evening."

Drogo takes a deep breath as if preparing to say something, but he remains silent. His hand, previously resting on my hip, slips away. I smile and take a step backwards to lay back into the summer-warmed water. It is not too deep close to the bank and only reaches up to my neck. I came here often as a child with my sisters and brothers and we could spend hours swimming in the shallows. Saradas once dared to swim into the deeper parts, despite my and my other sibling's warnings. Mother gave him an earful when he returned to shore and father a decent trashing when we got home.

"You will never do such foolish things, will you? You will keep out of mischief and always do as your mother wishes."

"Who are you talking to?" At the sound of my beloved's voice, I lift my head in surprise and feel for the ground with my feet. "Sorry, I didn't want to startle you," he says softly and places his hands back on my hips.

"You didn't startle me." Damp curls are sticking to my neck and back and I feel droplets of water trickling down my spine. "I was just talking to our little one again." He raises an eyebrow in mock amusement, but at the same moment smiles at me. There is so much love and joy in his eyes I cannot do other but embrace and kiss him again. "You know, I do that often of late. I spend entire afternoons speaking with our child while I wash your clothes, work in the garden or prepare dinner."

"You should not work too much, my dear," scolds Drogo, concern shading his otherwise calm voice. He reaches for my arm and though his touch is gentle there is an undeniable firmness in it as he deftly leads me out of the water. "You should not tire yourself out."

Reaching out for a towel, he flings it around my shoulders. I can tell he is worried and not only by the tone of his voice. Drogo is often away during the day arranging the work on the fields with my brother Rory. Yet, when he comes home in the evening he will not let me to do as much as clear the table, although he is more tired than I am. At times he is overly protective and sometimes I wonder what worries him more: the fact that anything could happen to me or that our baby could be troubled by something I do.

"I feel well, Drogo," I assure him while snuggling into the towel and sitting down in the soft grass. "There is nothing to worry about. And if you're worried about this evening, Gilda told me I could go to the river if I felt like it. She said it would help me to relax and I must say she was right."

He sighs heavily as he sits down beside me, a towel thrown over his own shoulders, and glances over to the river where tiny sparks of light glitter in the water. Something is on his mind, some trouble my words could not ease. The leaves rustle as a soft wind stirs them.

I am wearing a dress of the same design as the ones I used to wear swimming. In the soft wind that hums across the river, the thin, wet garment holds no warmth to my moist body and I shiver. Drogo absent-mindedly lays an arm around my shoulders and pulls me close. He shivers too, but if from cold or the thoughts that trouble him, I can not tell. "What is it, Drogo?"

He does not answer at once, but tightens his grip around my arm, allowing a silent fear to creep into my mind. It takes hold of my body like a cold hand squeezing my heart and soul. Looking at him, I realise Drogo's face is grim and a dark shadow lies upon it like a cloud. My heart is in my throat and I instinctively place a hand on my rounded belly as I try to swallow the lump that is building there. In the past weeks, something has been bothering him more than he lets on and I fear what the source of his worries might be. It pains me to see him like this just as it fills my heart with fear. The wind whistles in the tree-tops and the sound is eerie to my ears. Touching his cheeks, I force my husband to look at me and though he has lowered his gaze I search his eyes and am astounded to see unshed tears glitter there. Seeing him grief-stricken catches me unawares and I feel tears welling up inside me almost immediately. The noose of fear tightens around my breast. I want to say something, comfort him, but find no words when he suddenly pulls me into a tight embrace and begins to weep openly. For a moment I am totally taken aback being unable to move or comfort him or even breathe. When was the last time I saw him cry? Have I ever seen him cry at all? Tears well up inside me as I carefully fling my arms around him and try to soothe him. What happened? What has broken him when I need him strong and whole at my side?

"I'm sorry," he sobs releasing me from the embrace and avoiding looking into my eyes. "I did not mean to trouble you." He looks shaken and the sad and troubled expression on his face almost breaks my heart. Only now do I realise that my hands are trembling too.

"But you did," I answer, my voice choked with tears. "What is it, Drogo? What happened?" I know he can read in my troubled eyes like in an open book. "Please, tell me," I ask as he slowly lifts his head.

He sighs heavily and glances at the sparkling water again. The sun is sinking slowly and the eastern sky takes on a faint red. The trails of his tears glisten on his cheeks and I gently wipe them away with the back of my hand. The tight knot of fear lingers in my stomach and I can only hope that Drogo will tell me what the trouble is. I don't know what else I could do to comfort him.

"I'm worried," he finally confesses and looks into my eyes, his brow furrowed, "worried about you and," he swallows hard, casting a short glance on my belly, "our child."

I open my mouth to say something, to assure him that there is no need to worry, but find that I have lost my voice.

"I could not bear if you had another miscarriage."

My eyes widen. I had not thought about losing my child for a very long time and if I did, it has ever been Drogo who told me not to worry and that everything will be all right. He was strong when I was too weak and desperate to fight my lingering fears. But now he is the one who is thinking the worst. I never thought he would worry about this as much as I did, never imagined how deep his worries went. Without thinking, I cup his face with my hands and kiss him. He closes his eyes, allowing another tear to trickle down his cheeks.

"I will not lose our child, Drogo, not this time," I whisper when I release his lips after what seems like an endless moment.

He swallows heavily and rests his head on my breast where I hold him close and gently caress his face. My dear Drogo always tried to be strong for me. I wonder how long he has kept his thoughts secret. Gently his hand strokes my belly, but our baby does not respond.

"We wanted to have a child for so long and it broke my heart to see you suffer all those years. But now," he pauses to take a deep breath. "I mean, I've never felt my child before, nor seen you change so clearly. I can't get the thought of our baby out of my mind and I can't wait to hold the little one in my arms and," he takes another haggard breath and I feel him tremble beneath my touch, "I could not bear if all our hopes were scattered again."

I know his worries, know them all too well, but I also know how to quench them. Taking a deep, relieved breath, I look at him gravely and know he must see some of the hope I hold in my eyes. "They will not be scattered, Drogo. I can feel that they won't. You might not understand, but I _know_ that our child is well. Nothing will happen this time. I have never felt the way I feel now and I can assure you, I will not do anything I don't feel up to. I was worried about our child as well, but I am no more, because I know that everything is well. I can understand him, Drogo. Our child lets me know when something is amiss and, so far, everything is just as it has to be. Gilda is very enthusiastic too. She said, in two months at the latest, our child will be born and I don't think that anything will go wrong until then. Not when I am feeling the way I feel now."

"Are you sure?" His voice is still weak and doubtful. If only he would believe me. If only he could feel what I do.

I cup his face and lean my forehead against his, looking directly into his green eyes. "Yes," I whisper and place a gentle kiss on his lips, "this time, I am."

A shiver runs through him as the wind dries the last droplets of water on his bare chest. He has closed his eyes and for a long moment there is nothing but the whisper of the wind and the silent gurgling of the water.

When he opens his eyes again a sudden smile brightens his features and it is all I need to forget my knot of fear and all our worries. He believes me. "So, _wife_," he tells impishly, "if you know so much, can you tell me if you are expecting a little boy or a girl?"

"A boy," I answer matter-of-factly though I have no idea. It is good to see him smile and the confused look he gives me now makes me giggle. "Or perhaps it will be a girl. Whence shall I know you silly hobbit?"

Without further explanations I clumsily wriggle out of his embrace and hurry back to the river. Tiny drops of water sparkling in many different colours splash into every direction. I stop and turn to look at my husband expectantly. Drogo is still sitting in the grass, though now he supports his body with his elbows. "Drogo Baggins, will you cast aside your worries and get into that water!"

He grins impishly and demonstratively brushes some drops of water off his trousers. Shaking my head I send a handful of water into his direction. "Sluggard!"


	8. 12 Wedmath 1368

**Author notes:**  
I'm sorry, I forgot to announce that I will no longer update my stories on this site. **All my stories and future chapters can be found on Stories of Arda** (see link in my author profile). _  
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_12. Wedmath 1368 _

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Dear Diary,

It cannot be this difficult to find a name, can it? I mean, after all, it is only a name. Yet, Drogo and I almost quarrelled this afternoon because we could not agree on one. I mean, Fosco - Drogo's father in all honour - is not a name for _my_ son.

And why not Peony? I like the name. Because Peony Baggins, daughter of Posco and Gilly has just turned eighteen in March. Why can't there be two Peonies? After all, this Peony would be _my_ Peony and Drogo's and not a daughter of Posco's and Gilly's.

We have been discussing names for two weeks now and still have not come to a conclusion. This afternoon, when Drogo tried to put up a bed for our little one while I was embroidering a curtain and blanket, the argument grew hot again.

Drogo even suggested Folco which is just as bad as Fosco. Then I sarcastically suggested we shortlist Bungo, a name he knows I detest, and he answered "Well, why not?" If I had not felt so sluggish I would have boxed his ears!

All I want is a beautiful name for my child and Fosco and Folco are certainly not beautiful - at least not beautiful enough. Yet, concerning boy's names, I am quite at a loss. I don't want to take a typical Brandybuck-name like Marmadoc because my child will not be a Brandybuck. Still, I cannot think of anything other that would please me. Minto, perhaps, but … oh, those boy's names make me crazy!

For a girl I would have liked Peony, but Drogo will never allow that. Not two Peonies in the same family _and_ the same generation. He would like to name our child Marigold or Viola.

I guess it is time for a decision. As the names he chose for a girl are not too bad, Drogo shall decide about a girl's name while I will claim the right of naming a boy. If only I could find a suitable one.


End file.
